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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/27121312">Lowkey F 2020</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/SpicedInkling/pseuds/SpicedInkling'>SpicedInkling</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Hamilton - Miranda, Hamilton - Miranda (Broadway Cast) Actor RPF</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Alexander Hamilton &amp; Thomas Jefferson Friendship, Alexander Hamilton Can Sing, Alternate Universe - Lawyers, Anxiety Attacks, Asexual Alexander Hamilton, Bathing/Washing, Cabinet Meetings (Hamilton), Enemies to Friends, F/F, Good Friend James Madison, Grief/Mourning, Implied/Referenced Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism, Implied/Referenced Domestic Violence, James Reynolds Being an Asshole, M/M, Minor Violence, Modern Era, Multi, Platonic Life Partners, References to Depression, Separation Anxiety, Slapping, Thomas Jefferson is Not an Asshole, Trans Alexander Hamilton, Verbal Abuse, Worried Parent George Washington</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-11-20</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-11-20</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-06 18:20:06</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Teen And Up Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>Graphic Depictions Of Violence</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>1,105</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/27121312</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/SpicedInkling/pseuds/SpicedInkling</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>An Immigrant and a southerner are stuck in quarantine together, not opposed, bros. With a bit of arguing, tension, and a hell ton of pinning, see how to two bond while stuck together for 8 months straight.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Alexander Hamilton &amp; John Laurens &amp; Gilbert du Motier Marquis de Lafayette &amp; Hercules Mulligan, Alexander Hamilton/James Reynolds, Thomas Jefferson &amp; James Madison</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>6</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>14</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>Lowkey F 2020</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><ul class="associations">


        <li>
            Inspired by

            <a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/26160961">As If This Year Couldn't Get Any Worse</a> by <a href="https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheRedEgg/pseuds/TheRedEgg">TheRedEgg</a>.
        </li>

    </ul></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>--ONE DAY BEFORE TRAVEL BAN--</p><p>                        Alexander grumbled as he readjusted the heavy files in his arm, huffing as he rings Jefferson's doorbell. <em>Hurry up, Jeffershit! </em>Alexander groaned as he heard Jefferson cuss and open the door. "Hamilton? What the fuck are you doing here? Don't you live on the other side of town? Did you fucking WALK here?!" Hamilton deadpans. "Yes, Yes I did, and I don't care. Please take these fucking files before I get tired and decide to sleep on your porch." He replied with shoving the heavy files into Jefferson's arms, walking back into the rain. He wasn't exactly in rain clothes, but a hoodie. Jefferson bit his lip nervously before grabbing the secretaries wrist, pulling him inside. "Thomas, what the fuck? I have to go home!" The immigrant complained, and <em>god, he forgot how entitled Alexander was. </em>"Deal with it midget, I'm not letting you walk across town with it pouring outside. In fact, it's supposed to storm." As if to prove his point, thunder shook the whole house. He sees Hamilton's face pale. And <em>Oh, that was a sight. </em>"Oh~ I see. Hamilton's scared of a little storm, eh? That's pathetic." Jefferson knew that this was low, but Alexander's reaction was amusing. Another booming thunder sounded as Thomas closed the door, and Alexander released a pathetic whine, curling in on himself. </p><p>                         Alexander's phone, which was on the floor, was practically vibrating constantly, presumably with text messages from his friends. Thomas picked the device up, unlocking it easily. <em>Remind him to get Hamilton to set a password for this. </em>Thomas sharply inhaled when he saw that Hamilton's "boyfriend" messaged him again.</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>31 new messages from James.</em>
</p><p>
  <em>48 new messages from Hamilsquad.</em>
</p><p> </p><p>                            Thomas steeled himself when he opened the messages from Reynolds, and paled. This... wasn't okay. Not at all. Not even HAMILTON deserved that.</p><p><em>(3:49 PM)</em>       </p><p><strong><em>James:</em></strong> <em>Can you just be happy? You're depression shit won't work anymore.</em></p><p><em><strong>Alex:</strong></em> <em>I'm sorry, I'll try harder.</em></p><p><em> <strong>James: </strong> </em> <em>You don't even need a therapist, you're just overreacting.</em></p><p><em> <strong>Alex: </strong> </em> <em>You're right, I'm sorry.</em></p><p>
  <em><strong>James: </strong>I do this because I love you sugar. No one else would be with you. </em>
</p><p>(<em>5:31 PM)</em></p><p>
  <em><strong>Alex: </strong>Hey, James? Should I wear my green hoodie, or my yellow sweater?</em>
</p><p><em> <strong>James: </strong> </em> <em>The yellow sweater makes you look fat, wear the hoodie. It makes you so much prettier.</em></p><p><em> <strong>Alex: </strong> </em> <em>But I was just thinking that I could wear the yellow sweater with my headband.</em></p><p><em> <strong>James: </strong> </em> <em>You'll be so much prettier if you just did what I ask, slut.</em></p><p><em> <strong>Alex: </strong> </em> <em>You're right, thanks James. I love you!</em></p><p><em> <strong>James: </strong> </em> <em>I know I am.</em></p><p>(<em>6:17 PM)</em></p><p><em> <strong>James: </strong> </em> <em>Get your ass back to the house, now.</em></p><p><em><strong>James:</strong></em> <em>Alexandra, come home now, slut.</em></p><p>
  <em><strong>James:</strong> Hurry the fuck up, Tranny.</em>
</p><p><em> <strong>Alex: </strong> </em> <em>Yes sir.</em></p><p><em> <strong>James: </strong> </em> <em>Good girl.</em></p><p> </p><p>                                     This just disgusted Thomas. This was.. not okay. Why would someone say that to someone as sweet as Alexander. He never intentionally hurt someone, and immediately apologizes if he did. <em>Tranny? Alexandra? </em>Thomas shook his head. This was not his battle, but he couldn't help but worry for his "rival".  He quickly opens the Hamilsquad chat, hoping it was much better. Frankly, it was, but it wasn't exactly pretty either.</p><p>
  <em>(9:34 PM)</em>
</p><p><em> <strong>LaffyTaffy: </strong> </em> <em>Can someone call mon petit leon? He isn't answering my text messages.</em></p><p><em> <strong>Turtles: </strong> </em> <em>I called as well, he won't answer.</em></p><p><em> <strong>DemiGod: </strong> </em> <em>Alexander, please answer us! We're really worried man.</em></p><p><em> <strong>LaffyTaffy: </strong> </em> <em>Mon ami, I am aware that there is a storm upcoming. Do you need us to come over?</em></p><p><em> <strong>Turtles: </strong> </em> <em>Lex, come on! Answer us, please! We're really freaking out. </em></p><p>
  <em><strong>DemiGod: </strong>Guys, he's not in his apartment. </em>
</p><p><em> <strong>Non-Stop: </strong> </em> <em>This is Jefferson, Hamilton is currently with me. He seems to be dissociated, is there any way I can help?</em></p><p><strong>LaffyTaffy: </strong> <em>Thomas! Alexander souffre de PTSD avec des tempetes a cause d'un ouragan quand il avait 17 ans. Stabilisez-le, comptez avec lui, tout ca. Tout comme moi quand nous etions plus jeunes. assurez-vous simplement de ne pas le toucher soudainement, il a eu de mauvaises experiences. Assurez-vous de ne pas mentionner James, car il est que gentil. Bonne chance mon ami, mettez-moi a jour, d'accord?</em></p><p><strong><em>Non-Stop:</em></strong> <em>Je connais James, Alexander a besoin d'aide. Je vous tiendrai au courant, mais nous devons vraiment l'aider a s'eloigner de James. Il est vraiment toxique, regardez.</em></p><p><strong> <em>Non-Stop:</em> </strong>  <em>[1 screenshot shared]</em></p><p><strong> <em>DemiGod:</em> </strong> <em> Okay, what the actual fuck?</em></p><p><strong> <em>LaffyTaffy:</em> </strong> <em> Je jure sur tout ce en quoi je crois, je vais tuer James et personne ne le decourvira, cette putain de frere et je tuerai James pour lui.</em></p><p><strong> <em>Non-Stop:</em> </strong> <em> Not if I kill him first. I'm gonna go help Alex now.</em></p><p>                                    Jefferson sucked up his pride, and quietly walked over to Alex, who was rocking himself, silently crying. "Alexander, it's okay. You aren't 17 anymore, you're 27, and it's just a storm. Everyone's okay, just count with me, okay?" Thomas offered his hand to the immigrant whom he sat next to, the hand quickly being squeezed. "<em>Un, doux, trois, quatre, cinq, six, sept, huit, neuf, dix." </em>Soon, Alex joined in the counting, Thomas pulling Alex into his lap, smoothing his hair back. "Alex, are you okay now darlin'?" He had no response. "That's okay if you don't wanna talk, okay? Is it okay if I bathe you? I won't look if you want me too, but you're all dirty love." Alexander whined in protest, wrapping his arms around himself. "Love, I already know. I won't look if you need, I'll just be there to help you, okay Alexander?" Thomas stood with Alex bridal style, walking up to his large master bathroom. Setting Alexander down on the counter, Thomas knelt down next to the tub, running a lukewarm bath, looking through his bath bombs and such. "Alex, would you like a Lavender bath bomb, or a Bergamot salt honey? Can you nod for Lavender and shake for Bergamot?" A nod. "Lavender it is." Placing the bath bomb into the water, Thomas worked on removing Alexander's hoodie and shoes, tugging his socks off as well. "Okay, take the rest of your clothes off while I run and get you some clothes. If you wear a binder, place it on the counter, okay?" After receiving a nod from his "rival", Thomas jogged to his room, grabbing a baggy grey sweatshirt and a pair of shorts. Walking back in, Alexander is in the bath tub, hair soaked and hanging over his face as he curled into himself when Jefferson returned. "Oh, Alex I'm sorry for making fun of you for being scared. After we get you cleaned up..." Thomas spared a glance at Alexander's phone. "...We need to talk."</p><p> </p><p>                                       </p>

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